


Gaujo and Romani

by KeeblrElf



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Angry Faye, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gaujo and Romani, Gun swapping, Heavy Drinking, Jet is dad, Romance, Scars, Slow Burn, post real folk blues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-14 04:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16906038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeblrElf/pseuds/KeeblrElf
Summary: Faye is haunted by the past and Spike doesn’t know what he wants anymore. Despite the great distance that now exists between their hearts, it doesn't stop these two from bickering like an old married couple whenever they get the chance. Will these two lost souls close the divide and find peace of mind in each others' arms? Or will their comfort be a fleeting dream?!!UPDATE!! 4/30/2019~Hello!~ I'm finally back! I've been on my last semester of college and it's been brutal!! I apologize for the wait! I plan to rework the chapters I've already released, and continue working on the chapters to come. Thank you! ^.^





	1. Decision in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Cowboy Bebop (unfortunately).

Jet was about to knock on Faye’s door, informing her dinner was ready, but that’s when he heard quiet sobs coming from behind it. 

The violet-haired woman had been noticeably more distant lately; there had been more sighing, more silent tears. He stood there, hand outstretched hesitantly, unsure if she would appreciate him intruding on the gloomy moment she was having. But then again, he had seen her cry many times these past three months and she didn’t seem to care. 

It was a different story altogether with Spike; she was a blank slate around the injured man from what he had seen. There were no fights, no witty banter, no almost flirtations; Faye had managed to pull herself away from everything she used to be, especially who she was around Spike. Her gaze now empty when they landed on the man she had begged to stay.

Jet sighed and knocked lightly. “Faye? Can I come in?” He said gently at the door. 

Faye was startled by the knock and tried to dry her face as quickly as she could, tired of letting the older man see her cry. “Okay”, she replied shakily, hurriedly stuffing all her tissues under the covers.

Jet opened the door cautiously, stepping in several feet. The light behind him painting his shadow on the floor in front of her bed, not quite reaching her small form, but there was now enough light to where he could see her. She was leaning her back against the wall opposite the door, her knees brought up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Jet could see, even in the dim light, how red and puffy her eyes were. 

He hated to see her like this, so different from the stubborn and spunky cowgirl he had become accustomed to. Even though they hadn’t gotten along much during her initial time on the Bebop, after she had saved Spike, a bond of unspoken respect grew between the two. For the last three months it had been just them taking care of Spike; she went out and caught bounties, while Jet watched Spike and worked on repairing the ship, which was permanently docked on Mars after the syndicate had almost destroyed it completely. 

After that emotionally draining night, Faye refused to talk at all, outside of the briefest of necessary responses. 

She would catch bounties and tend to Spike’s wounds, but when she wasn’t doing those two things, she was in her room. She barely ate, and that’s not from a lack of trying on Jet’s part, but she just couldn’t seem to keep anything down. With the brief moments he saw her each day, he could tell she was losing weight.

But after the first several weeks, she started spending more time outside her room, and although he wasn’t sure why, he wasn’t complaining. Most of it sitting with him while he tended his Bonsai. 

Initially, it was just in silence. Jet decided against questioning her, afraid she would take offense and slink back to her room, so he just let her be, realizing her effort to mend the mood she had been in. He noticed that she no longer wore her red headband, and had begun wearing her hair down, her bangs hanging over her face, casting her eyes in shadow. Jet thought maybe she was attempting to hide the bags under her eyes, for they had become increasingly obvious. He knew she wasn’t sleeping much.

But little by little, she began to talk more. She would ask him things; How did he get into gardening? How did he get the Bebop? Had he talked to Ed since she left? How long did it take him to style his beard like that? 

Over the months, Jet had gotten a small table for the kitchen, so they wouldn’t have to keep eating in the living area. 

It seated four. 

She sat there with him some mornings, drinking coffee, and often continuing her aimless line of questioning. 

She never asked anything too serious or anything having to do with the indisposed fluffy-headed man in the other room. Always skirting around the edges, seemingly wanting to saturate the conversation with so much randomness that it made her forget the things she didn't want to think about. It appeared all she wanted was something to ground her back in reality, something to give her a sense of normalcy in a world where it seemed everything had gone to shit.

It became a pleasant time for both of them.

She even talked about her past a bit. She told him she had remembered almost all of it, but that it didn’t matter, she realized that after she’d found the remnants of her childhood home. The majority of everything that was important to her now was on that ship anyway. He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

But over the three short months, Faye started to get some of her fire back. They’d even begun to argue about meaningless things again, which made him internally sigh in relief. Jet knew it would just be a matter of time, but he really had been worried about her. There had been days where even he had a hard time functioning properly; Faye hadn’t been the only person affected by Spike’s choices. But Jet was able to pick himself up, claiming the responsibility of keeping their small family afloat in the few ways he could. 

Jet knew that she had feelings for the reckless cowboy, but he hadn’t realized how deep they were until he had left them to pursue Vicious. Jet hadn’t been happy about it, but he was tired of trying to persuade Spike to leave the past in the past. But Faye had taken his leaving harder.

She had been a wreck when he had met her at the hospital after dragging a bloody and unconscious Spike there. He remembered how she sat there in a daze in the waiting room, her clothes covered in his blood. She hadn’t even acknowledged him when he sat down next to her. Her eyes were distant, as her bloody hands were clenched in her lap.

And today, even after so much progress, it seemed Faye had fallen back into that pit of despair once more. 

Jet walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, his back to her. “What’s going on Faye?”

She didn’t respond right away, taking a moment to collect herself and her thoughts. She uttered an audible sigh.

“I’m just…tired, Jet.” She rubbed her aching eyes with the heel of her palms, taking a labored breath, “…I haven’t been sleeping, that’s all...” She didn’t really want to delve into the numerous reasons for her relapse into a room recluse. “I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry.”

Jet was, by no means, an expert on women, but by now, he was quite adept at reading Faye. 

“Come on, do you expect me to believe that’s it?” he said quietly. “You…know you can talk to me Faye.” He clasped his hands together, leaning his arms on his knees. “You’ve been doing so much better lately, you haven't had any issues with your bounties and you've been coming out of your room a lot. Now I know he hasn't... ”

“That night...”, she interjected, taking a short pause, “keeps looping in my mind, Jet. It won’t stop… it was so much. Too much.”

She didn’t have to say which night, because he knew; it was the night that neither of them dared to talk about. Jet rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how he should respond. He was the only one who knew what she’d done, and she’d sworn him to secrecy too.

“I shouldn't have done it.” She whispered.

A short silence came from Jet as he chewed her words. “I guess when you saw him, you couldn’t help yourself.” He turned his head to the side and glanced an eye over at her. “I think you wanted it to be over. You knew his past wouldn’t let go of him, so you…helped.

Jet spoke again, “I know you might feel like you’ve made a mistake or regret what you did, but it will eventually get easier to bear. I know right now it doesn’t feel that way because it’s still so fresh, and I know you’d never done anything like that before, but I promise, it does get easier.”

Faye let his words sink in. He wasn’t far off the mark honestly, but it didn’t stop the haunting memories. Everything had happened so fast that night.

She could still see Spike’s back as he walked away from her, feeling as if her words would never reach him.

Remembered the strong smell of his blood as she cradled his lifeless body against hers.

The feeling of her anger taking over as she decided to deal with the rest. 

As she sat there, she fidgeted with her hands, and ultimately squeezed the sheets in her fists until her knuckles were white, trying to cease their shaking. She was tired alright, but it sure wasn’t from lack of sleep. She was tired of the amalgam of feelings swirling around inside her; it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“I always find my way into situations that will hurt me in the end because I never take the time to think about the consequences of my actions. I let my emotions take control and ask questions later. I guess we can see where that's gotten me.” 

She took a breath, steeling herself to speak his name. 

“And Spike's the exact same and I let myself become all swept up in his problems too, like I didn't have enough for myself. I got in too deep, Jet. But it looks like he was in over his head as well. She was never going to let him go...”

“She’s gone now, Faye.” Jet said quietly as he turned his head back toward the door. “So is Vicious.”

“I know that Jet, but that’s not the point! That asshole would always go running off after even the whispers of her name, without giving us a thought, and then we’d be the ones to pick him up when he had been beaten down. He knowingly dragged us into his problems and convinced himself that we would just look the other way while he ran off to die.” Tears pricked at her eyes again, her voice raised. “Did he think we didn’t care? Or did he care so little for _us_ that what we wanted never mattered to begin with?” She paused for a moment, failing to calm herself. “And here we are, busting _our_ asses to care for the fucker who abandoned us. Again.” 

As the words left her mouth, she knew she was wrong to think of Spike that way. Knew that he hadn’t abandoned them, but she was too angry from other things to think about the truth anymore.

She began to cry again, hot tears streaming down her face, and Jet, sitting there in silence, listening.

\--- 

In the hallway, Spike was standing outside her door, leaning against the wall. He had been on the way to the bathroom, slowly hobbling around on unused muscles. He had stopped when he found something more interesting to occupy his time. 

He stoically listened to Faye’s outpouring. It was more words than he had heard from her since he’d woken up a month ago, the two never exchanging more than hollow small talk these days. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have questions to ask about what happened, questions that Jet couldn’t answer, he just felt that maybe, for the time being, he should keep his mouth shut. 

He felt something tighten in his chest when he listened to her tired and distraught voice, feelings he wasn’t accustomed to feeling, and nothing he wanted to explore anytime soon. But among all the things he was feeling, guilt was the most pronounced. But he didn’t want to think about that either. Keeping most feelings away for the time being seemed like the right move.

Faye’s face flashed in his mind. She looked so different now. Unruly hair and dark circles under her eyes, and she even wore more conservative clothing that seemed to swim on her small frame.

And he was curious about the scar that now adorned her face.

He didn’t understand everything that was said between the two, but he made a note to ask Jet later, not caring if he knew that he’d been listening. 

He instinctually reached in his sweatpants pocket for a cigarette but remembered Faye had taken them all. Just another form of payment she had decided to extract from him. Normally, he would have taken it upon himself to pester her about it and retaliate by stealing some of hers, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, no matter how bad he craved them.

He grinned and chuckled silently to himself. _I guess I can’t complain though._ He brought a hand up and tentatively placed it over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen that Faye had changed earlier, feeling the ghost of her fingertips grazing the least amount of skin as possible.

He turned quietly, shuffling toward his initial destination, mulling over what Faye had said. 

_Goddamn, I need a cigarette and a drink._

\---

Faye and Jet lost track of how long they sat in silence with only the sounds of the ship to fill the space. But in that silence, she had come to a decision. Something she had been thinking about for a couple of weeks now. Once she started to move, she knew she couldn't stop or she'd never follow through.

“Jet, I think I need a break.” She timidly scooched to the edge of the bed, sitting next to him, but not looking up at him. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, “Everything is too much right now, I… thought I could just keep this up and then everything would go back to normal and somehow I would stop feeling all these things, but I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

She slowly stood up, standing in front of him, her tired green eyes meeting his concerned blue ones. “I just need some time to sort things out. That lunkhead is well enough to get around on his own now and I think we’ve saved enough from the bounties to keep you two afloat until he can get back to doing them. That is, if you can keep the Bebop from getting destroyed again.” She forced a tired smirk at him.

She got on her hands and knees, digging under her bed and pulling out a bag, which she hastily began stuffing clothes and other necessitates into. Jet sat there watching her for a moment before he spoke up. 

“Are you sure Faye?”

An irrational fear arising in his chest, afraid that she might not come back.

She stood there in silence, looking down at the bag she had been filling.

“Yeah.” She said quietly. He didn’t respond right away, letting her response linger in the quiet.

“How long do ya think you’ll be gone? Where will you go?”

She paused at her task and looked up, thinking. “I don’t know…and I don’t know.” She smiled weakly at him. 

“I just know I need to get away from here. Clear my head. I’ve been here, with…him too long.” 

She reached over to her side table where Spike’s Jericho sat. She had claimed it as her own since the night she saved his sorry ass and had been using it ever since. He wasn’t going to be using it for a while anyway. She had left her Glock on the workbench in his room in exchange. She knew he had seen it, but he hadn’t had the guts to bring it up it seems. His gun felt good in her hand, for many reasons she didn’t want to delve into at the moment, or maybe ever. She rubbed her thumb over the grip, almost possessively, and put the gun in her sweater. 

She hauled the bag over her shoulder, turning around once more, looking sheepishly at the older cowboy. “Don’t worry Jet, I’ll be back.” She stepped into her boots. “I’m not Spike, I actually want to come back.”

And with that last remark, she walked out of her room and to the ship hangar, giving the Swordfish one last glance, quickly pushing down any thoughts about it or its pilot, and jumping into the Redtail. She started the engine and sped away before she could change her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾*:;,｡･★Thank(◎≧v≦)人(≧v≦●)You!☆･:.,;*☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙


	2. B is for Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faye has gotten herself into a situation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! Just a quick update! I know I said I had planned to get Chapter 3 out around the 21st of December, but I got caught up in Xmas things and helping my parents with it all, and also three Xmas parties >.< But please bear with me, I promise it's coming soon!!
> 
> ~Thank you~

Four months later, a dim alley in Tharsis…

 

Faye cursed as she slid down the wall of the dark alley, her hand holding tightly to the gunshot wound in her side. She had taken her jacket off and pressed it against the wound, but she could feel the blood slowly beginning to soak through the fabric, coating both her hands in the warm liquid. She was glad she no longer wore that yellow and red getup, that thin sweater wouldn’t have soaked up anything and she’d be sitting in a pool of her own blood by now. 

She clenched her teeth from the pain. It hurt, more than she thought it would. As the bullet entered her, it had stung at first and then the pain exploded, bringing tears to her eyes as if the air had been knocked out of her. It hadn’t passed all the way through and she hated thinking about the hassle it would be to get out. And the scar that would mar her skin. 

She bit her lip and leaned her head back against the cold brick. 

_It seems I’m just collecting scars these days._

With the way Spike had always seemed to bounce back from wounds so quickly, she thought maybe getting shot wasn’t so bad. Maybe whatever crazy stamina he had, had rubbed off on her too.

Oh, how wrong she was. On both accounts.

She sat there in pain, hoping someone would walk by and help her, instead of having to call Jet. 

She had been keeping in touch with him every couple of weeks and the last place he said they were was Tharsis, but that had been several days ago, and there was probably a good chance they had moved on. It would have been nice though, since that is where she happened to be dying at the moment. 

But even being shot, she couldn’t help but want to be stubborn about the whole thing. She didn’t want to hear what Jet, AKA “Dad”, had to say about her botched bounty, and even less what that green-headed asshole would say. She couldn’t handle it right now, she already felt like shit. Obviously.

The two bounties she was hunting lay dead on the ground about 20 feet away, they had been partners in a sex trafficking operation. It had been a small shootout, but it was a lot of action for such a narrow alleyway; the sounds of the gunshots bouncing off the walls had been deafening. She had cornered them in a dead end, but they still fought her every step of the way, the chase lasting a good 20 minutes. But in the end, she killed both of them: the first one by accident, and the second one after he got her in the side; the need to kill him suddenly more important than the bounty he was worth.

She was disgusted with herself. The consistency of her work lately had been ridiculous, frustrating her to no end. She knew she had taken on way bigger challenges, but it seems whatever knack she had for catching bounties had left her when she left the Bebop.

She thought about her choice of bounty, and looking back, maybe she had picked one that was too much of a challenge for just one person, or maybe just too much for her current self. She wondered if she should have maybe asked for help, and then immediately scolded the thought for entering her brain.p> _Fuck that, I wasn’t going to ask Spike for help, you know he’d just make the whole thing a nightmare and make you wish you’d never asked in the first place._

Anger flashed across her face, which was an often occurrence these days, and it was all focused on the same person who her ire had been fixated on since the day they met. 

It seemed as if everything Spike had ever done to piss her off was always just in the forefront of her mind. 

The thoughts causing her to become unusually violent, which contributed to more dead bounties lately, more than she would ever admit out loud.

Before he left, she had genuinely admired and looked up to the man, despite their constant bickering. And a small part of her felt other things for him as well, but she had forced herself to push those feelings down, knowing there was no point. 

Thoughts of angelic blonde hair flowing in the wind as that red convertible sped down the road flit across her mind. 

_Those distant blue eyes._

After he left, something broke inside her and all she felt towards the man was sadness and rage, and recently it was only the latter. 

_But apparently that didn’t stop you from saving him, did it Faye?_

Images of his limp body, pooled in blood, laid out on the stairs, were burned into her memory. When she saw him like that, the icy fingers of fear clamped down on her heart, and she felt as if she’d never be warm again. But her body moved, despite the frost, and she moved to turn him over and take him away. She brought her hand up to his neck, searching for a pulse, and a sob of relief escaped her lips when she felt the weak beat of life move against her fingers. She looked down and could see his gut had been sliced open, and the beginnings of unknown masses had begun to protrude from the opening. If she had been in her right mind, she would have been sickened. 

But she wasn’t in her right mind. 

Her crimson fingers worked quickly, deliberately, tying the slashed pieces of his coat tightly around his middle, as well as binding the gunshot wound on his left arm. When she carried him to her ship that was docked in the ruins of the top half of the building, she had to sling him over her back, his height making him unable to be cradled in her arms; his feet dragged against the cracked concrete. She felt his blood streaming over her skin, but it hadn’t hindered her in the least. She had hauled him up in the pod of her ship and sped off to find the nearest hospital. 

As she flew, she remembered crying and repeating his name, over and over, like a mantra, begging him to not die, and that she needed him, needed him to be there. She was pathetic, she already knew that, but in that moment, she couldn’t have cared less.

As she lay there in the alley, injured herself, she still couldn’t believe she’d given in and saved that suicidal idiot. She should have just left him to die, like he wanted. He could’ve been with his precious Julia then.

But _no._

_Oh no._

Faye couldn’t help it. 

She was selfish, convincing herself that she would be in more pain in a world without Spike Spiegel, than a world where he was on the Bebop and never reciprocated whatever confused feelings she had towards him. At least she’d still see him, hear his voice and see his rare smiles. She even looked forward to arguing with him, at least that was a type of relationship, right? It was something at least, and she would take it, even if it was a painful existence, it was better than not having him at all. 

That is, if he even decided to stay when he was better…

She knew though, there were no guarantees when it came to Spike. 

She looked down at her hands, the blood brightly standing out against the pale of her skin. A sight she hadn’t planned on seeing again.

That night, she had somehow got him to a hospital before he could kick the bucket. She pulled her ship right up to the emergency room exit, property damages be damned, and got out, catching his body in her arms, falling to her knees under the weight, the skin grating off. She screamed at the doors for help, and luckily, a crew aboard a parked ambulance had seen the whole thing and rushed to help. They quickly laid Spike on a stretcher and rushed him in the hospital.

She was left there kneeling on the ground, head bowed, looking down at her slick red hands, whispering his name. Someone had come out soon after to usher her inside, but at the time, she hadn’t really grasped what was happening. Not long after, Jet arrived. She wasn’t sure how, and she never bothered to ask.

She was glad Jet hadn’t been there to see her muttering Spike’s name and kneeling on the concrete in a daze like a bloody idiot. When he _did_ get there, she had already been brought inside and had tuned out, trying to preserve her sanity by shutting her brain off. She hadn’t even realized he was there until he put his hand on her shoulder, and that’s when she shakily handed him her money card.

She had given Jet every woolong she had to pay for Spike’s medical bills. She remembered the confused look he had given her when she had willingly handed all her money over to him. He hadn’t said anything, but she could tell he wanted to, but it seemed his better judgement kept him from doing so.

After Spike was stabilized, which had seemed like an eternity, she remembered feeling sticky and looked down, realizing she had forgotten that she was still covered in Spike’s blood. And that’s when Jet told her to go home and take a shower, saying he would stay with Spike ‘til she got back. 

She went back to the ship. 

Eventually. 

But she had a job to do before she let that water wash everything away…

She had seen them. What was left anyway. They had watched her take the slayer of Vicious, seemingly too stunned by the events to act on what was happening in front of them. They stood there like confused idiots. 

She had counted.

At the time, it was easy to convince herself what she needed to do, and her mind had been set from the moment the thought entered her brain.

She had used the backup to the backup money card she had stashed in her ship and bought all the necessary supplies she had needed. Not caring one bit at how the store clerk looked at her. 

Later on, scalding water beat down on her, scouring the numerous layers of blood that covered her skin. 

A car driving by brought her back to her current predicament. 

She had given up waiting for anyone to walk by and the pain was getting too bad, she pulled out her communicator, also bloody she discovered; slippery fingers dialed the Bebop. 

_I hope they’re still here. Please let them be here._

It had almost been an afterthought and she felt so stupid now, putting so much hope in them when they might not even be in Tharsis anymore. But nevertheless, she had to try. 

Surely Jet would be on the ship. And hopefully Spike would not; maybe he’d be on a bounty or out drinking.

She didn’t want to see him smirk at her misfortune. She already knew she was a fuck-up, but it hurt a million times more when he reminded her. 

The call was answered, the fuzzy picture coming into focus, and a pair of mismatched brown eyes stared back. 

She deflated internally, even with her current situation, she was impressed she could sink any lower. 

_Just my luck._

“You don’t look too great Faye. Bounty not pan out for ya?” He had a cigarette in his mouth as he perched on “his” orange couch. He smirked cheekily. He had almost not recognized her; her hair was so different now, with bangs covering half her face, but when he saw the green of her eyes, he knew.

At the sound of his mocking voice, she clenched her jaw so hard the muscles protested in pain.

She didn’t want to argue now, not when she hadn’t seen him in almost four months, and not when she could possibly die, so she bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue. She hated asking for help, and even though she happened to really need it this time, she’d be damned if she was just going to ask for it outright. And to Spike of all people.

”Are you guys still in Tharsis?” She asked, ignoring his question.

Spike stared back at her for a moment, wondering how she knew where they were, but then realization hit him: Jet must have been keeping up with her. But why hadn’t he told him? It didn’t seem like a big deal. He did recall asking why Faye had left, but Jet had given him some half-assed answer and that was all he got. He stashed the thought away for later and returned to the woman on the screen.

”Yeah.” He said offhandedly, trying and failing to hide that he was annoyed at being kept out of the loop.

She almost cried in relief, but made sure to keep as straight a face as she could, not wanting to let on how much pain she was in.

“Can you get Jet?” She asked, not even wanting to get into why he now looked pissed off.

He took a drag before responding, “He’s not here, said something about getting parts for the ship.”

She cursed under her breath and looked down at the blood-soaked jacket pressed to her side, she wasn’t sure how long she was going to last. She bit down on her lip as she realized what she was going to have to do. She breathed audibly and her eye twitched slightly. 

_Why do these things happen to me? Fuck!_

“Can you come get me?” Her voice was small and pleading, averting her eyes.

He grinned, “What’s the matter? You in over your head again?” 

She gritted her teeth, loathe to admit her dire situation but too tired as it was, “If you have to know, yes, I was chasing after a couple bounties, and…things didn’t turn out and they are just…very much dead right now.” Her vision was beginning to get blurry. “And I will be too if you don’t get off your lazy ass and come get me right now Spike Spiegel.” The pain too great for her to put any real anger behind her words. She wasn’t in the mood. 

He gave her an indiscernible look, his eyes drilling into hers, and then a concerned expression came over his features, but only for an instant, and then he looked away and then back. Faye had become so lethargic she thought she might have imagined it. The short silence and their eye contact seeming to hold so many unspoken words.

“I guess I owe you one, don’t I Romani?” He said finally, more quietly.

She didn’t respond.

He put out his cigarette. 

“Where are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ^_^
> 
> Btw, if you see any errors, please let me know! Thanks >.<


	3. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Faye awaits for either Death or Spike to take her away, her mind wanders to some dark places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Hello~
> 
> Thank you for waiting! I’m sorry again for not getting this out quicker! Hope you all enjoy it! ^.^
> 
> Happy Holidays!

She had closed her eyes after talking to Spike, dropping her communicator on the cracked pavement, landing next to her gun. She told herself she was just resting, and everything would be fine. Spike would get there in time... He wouldn’t just leave her hanging…Right?

Her breathing became labored and she thought about what would happen if she really did die. Would it matter to anyone? She knew she was a pain in the ass sometimes…ok, most of the time, but she did have some people she felt close to. 

As close as someone _could_ feel who normally kept everyone at arms length. 

She knew Jet would miss her, although he’d probably never admit it aloud. He had become the closest thing to a father she would ever have now, and she wasn’t unhappy by it in the least, on the contrary, she enjoyed having that old man nagging at her. His cooking left much to be desired however.

Ed would probably care if she had been there, somehow, in her own way of course. The orange haired enigma of a child irked Faye sometimes, but she had ultimately carved out a place in her heart. She wondered what she was doing now, and if she ever caught up with her father like Jet had said. And now that she thought about her more, she had to admit that she really kinda missed that crazy kid.

And Ein would probably show at least some evidence of being sad from her death, despite her treating him less than pleasant, now feeling a twinge of guilt for her past actions towards the pup. 

_I swear I’ve gone soft since meeting them._

She took a painful breath.

And then her mind wandered to the last, unmentioned member of their group. Spike had always been outside of her range of understanding. Despite their time together, she still didn’t feel any closer to the man, nor did she get the feeling that he wanted to let her, or anyone know him; not anymore at least. It was true, they had been through a lot, but she always felt like she was chasing his back and never getting closer to him. And she was getting tired of it. Tired of wanting to chase him; hadn’t she done that enough?

She decided, right then, that she would stop…. Maybe _attempt_ to stop was more appropriate, because if she knew anything, it was knowing all he had to do was look at her a certain way and she was reduced to a blushing idiot. 

_Then I just won’t look at him!_

She shook her head slightly at her childish idea. There had to be some way to cure her Spike crush, but nothing constructive came to her blood-loss addled brain. It was just her misfortune that she couldn’t get the idiot out of her head, no matter how many times she drank herself under the table or how many people she fooled around with; it seemed Spike had taken up a permanent residence in her brain. 

_I guess I’ll just die then._

It was sad when dying seemed a better option than trying to get rid of a crush. 

But she wasn’t dead.

Yet. 

She was to the point where she was hoping he even noticed her absence to begin with. Thinking he might care was just outside the realm of possibilities in her opinion.

But after traveling together for so long, you think he’d notice not having anyone to bitch at or argue with, one less mouth to share food with, and one less person to divide the bounty money with. He had to recognize her on some level at least, right? As a crewmember or fellow bounty hunter, or dare she say, a _friend_? 

She stopped for a moment, wondering where that optimistic voice had come from. 

_Come on Faye, don’t start that hopeful shit, we’ve talked about this. This was Spike after all._

She sighed painfully.

He had never even thanked her for saving him, despite all the times she had tended to his wounds and given up her bounty share to pay for medical supplies he needed. And now that she thought about it, she wasn’t even sure he was happy to be alive. He was there because she couldn’t handle being without him. He hadn’t had a choice, for the most part. But she knew that it wasn’t true the other way around, he _could_ handle life without her around. She was quite certain he hadn’t moped around because of her short absence. But in the end, she had left, continuing the silly game of runaway tag they seemed to be subconsciously playing.

_Subconscious? Yeah, just keep telling yourself that Faye._

She highly doubted he thought much more of her than the annoying resident shrew of the Bebop, a distraction, someone only good for brief amusement. She took a haggard breath, adjusting her hold on her jacket. 

But there was a small, buried part of her that wished, and hoped, and pleaded for his eyes to really see her, to acknowledge and accept her, as a crew member and a woman; to see her as someone he could rely and open up to. Someone who genuinely wanted to be in his life. 

_Stupid bullet. Stupid Faye._

The longer she sat there, the more panicked her mind got, and she hated knowing that if she died there, she would never get to tell Spike how she felt. 

_Where the fuck did that come from?_

_Stupid brain too! I swear, if I don’t die from this, next chance I get, I’m drowning you in alcohol._

As of that moment, she realized it truly was her biggest regret and she felt miserable about it.

And one of the worst parts was knowing that if she even did get the chance, her stubborn pride would hold her back, in fear of being ridiculed and rejected. She had played _that_ particular scenario over and over in her mind, and no result ever ended favorably. No matter what she said, or how she said it, she could never see Spike feeling anything for her beyond tolerating her existence. That’s how she always saw him anyway, even though it probably wasn’t as bad as that.

Probably.

She felt like crying, and even getting shot hadn’t caused her to shed tears. It was tearing her up that he might be the subject of her last thoughts, and all she had ever been to him was a pebble in his shoe. 

Maybe it was better this way, if she _did_ die, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about what he thought of her, or when her debt collectors would come after her again, nor would she have to worry about her hunger or if she’d have enough money for rent. But, then again…she wouldn’t get to see him smile again, wouldn’t get to see that twinkle in his eye when he knew he’d won an argument, would miss those rare moments smoking or drinking together; she hated knowing she’d be missing the rest of his life over a silly bullet wound. 

_Goddammit! I’m going to survive this no matter what! They can’t get rid of me that easy! I’m Faye fuckin’ Valentine!_

Faye had found her resolve, no matter how silly she thought it was, and tried to focus on it, keeping it in her mind like a beacon. But despite her newfound determination, time started to feel off, and she wasn’t sure how long she sat there, her mind seeming to phase in and out of consciousness. The thin strip of gray light that had been shining down from between the building tops was fading and there were no lights in the narrow alley. A streetlight was down a ways to her right, but its rays would never reach her. She started seeing shapes in the darkness; bounties she had killed, places she had been, other times she had almost died. It all seemed to dance before her in the dense shadows.

But she was momentarily pulled from her dark musings as she felt fat drops of cold rain fall on her face. A few here and there, and then it began to pour. She laughed at herself. _Of course, it would have to rain on me._ She looked up at the sky, but it was too dark to see the rain, and she let her face fall onto her chest, her bangs already plastered to her face.

And then she heard quick footsteps coming her way, their loud resolute sound bouncing off the narrow walls of the alley. She attempted to tilt her head to see who it was, but she hadn’t the strength to move anymore. But when the blue boots stopped in front of her, she couldn’t help but smile stupidly, even if it was into her shirt.

Spike bent down and picked up his gun and her communicator, stashing them in his pants pockets. He reached out, putting a finger under her chin and tipping her head back. She felt him brush the wet hair away from her face.

_Are...his hands shaking?_

She cracked open her eyes and smirked at his seemingly expressionless face.

“Hey, Gaujo,” she whispered faintly, and then closed her eyes. 

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She was alive and that’s what mattered. But the arm that had been holding the jacket suddenly went limp, he could see the bullet hole and he silently panicked. He quickly and tightly tied the bloody garment around her waist, over the hole. He took his jacket off and draped it over her and then gently snaked his arms under her legs and back and hoisted her up against his chest, setting off at a brisk pace back towards the Swordfish as the rain beat down on them. 

He hadn’t said anything to her, afraid of what might have come out of his mouth. 

Ever since Faye had saved him seven months ago now, emotions he had never felt before towards the woman had slowly begun to grow in him. The way he thought about her had begun to change. He came to the realization that he honestly liked her being on the Bebop; it felt right. He had noticed her absence, more than he wanted to admit, but it was difficult to be content with just him and Jet anymore; it was too quiet. He felt now that she truly belonged on that ship, and if she were to permanently leave, well, he wasn’t quite sure…

He liked to think he’d attempt to stop her.

But who was he to stop her? If she wanted to leave, he should just let her go.

Faye hadn’t been able to stop him from leaving.

And despite the way he left her standing there, and willingly walking to his death, Faye had made damn sure he was still there, and he was confused as to why she fought so hard for his life. When he had finally awoken from his injuries and nightmares, he had assumed they would go right back to the way they were, but she had been quiet and distant towards him, which also confused him. And then he became even more confused when she left again when it seemed things might be getting back to normal.

Whatever normal _was_ for the Bebop crew. The concept seemed to constantly change.

He had always been fond of Faye, despite how often they thoroughly pissed each other off. He saw their shouting matches as a kind of bonding, in some weird way that only they could understand. There was a part of him that hated seeing this normally loud and stubborn woman hang limply in his arms, it wasn’t right, and the feeling pierced him like a dagger to the chest. He pulled her closer. He knew he cared for her, but he still wasn’t sure to what extent. 

It was complicated.

The person he was before his last battle with Vicious was very different from the person he was now. After Faye had saved him, and he had woken up in the last place he thought he’d ever be again, it dawned on him that maybe, just maybe, that was where he belonged. Normally, he didn’t believe in things like that, choosing to call wherever he was home, but there was just, something about that place. The place he always inevitably found himself in, the place that had made such an impact on him, even though he tried his best to ignore it. 

There was an unexplainable pull towards the dysfunctional family he had found himself a member of. And when he had woken up to that familiar green fan, he was surprised to find that he felt so relieved he hadn’t died after all. 

But there had been no singing this time.

He looked down at the woman in his arms. Purple bangs fell across her face and a long ponytail spouted from the back of her head. Her ears were pierced in several spots now and he could see that she had a golden nose ring as well. She had on a black, long sleeve crop top, black skinny jeans, and thick black combat boots. He was surprised to see her in clothes like this, it was a far cry from her old skimpy yellow outfit, but he had to admit, he didn’t hate this new look.

Despite all the changes, she still looked so small and fragile, but he had been on the receiving end of her arguments enough to know she could hold her own when she needed to. It was unfortunate they got into it so often, but there was so much enjoyment to be gotten from riling her up. He liked that side of her though, that fiery attitude that challenged him, that wouldn’t quit until either one ran out of comebacks, decided to leave, or threw a punch.

He was now hoisting Faye and himself up into the cockpit of the Swordfish, trying not to slip from the rain. He didn’t want to let her go, so he didn’t, an irrational fear arising in his chest as he felt how cold she was. It was a very tight fit, but he was able to sit her in his lap and close the dome. 

Her skin was so pale, and her lips were slightly blue. He hurriedly reached his hand up to her neck, feeling for a pulse. He once again held his breath, and then he felt it, slow and faint, but present. He released his breath and quickly pushed some buttons here and there and the ship was off, luckily there was an autopilot mode. It would be about 10 minutes before they made it back to the ship. For someone who usually had bad luck, outside of gambling that is, Faye had uncanny luck at getting out of dire situations. He almost hadn’t believed how close she was to the Bebop when she told him her location.

He still wondered why Jet refused to tell him why she left; the only answer he got was some bullshit about her going on vacation. He remembered being confused at the older man’s cover for Faye, but he ultimately decided to stop asking.

He circled his left arm around her back, resting his hand low on her torso, and hesitantly placed his right on her chilled cheek. He surprised himself at how comfortable he was at touching her, even after everything that happened and all the time that had passed, he enjoyed the feeling of her soft skin against his fingertips. He wasn’t sure how she’d feel about his hands on her though.

“You better not die on me Faye, you owe me money for all the cigarettes and alcohol you stole from me.” He said, studying her serene face. Her eyes were covered in heavy black shadow and liner that had begun to run off the sides if her face from the rain. Dark red lipstick coated her small lips, but he could see that there was a faint scar that cut diagonally across the right side of her lips. From there his eyes trailed to another scar on the side of her neck that he knew hadn’t been there before either. 

_What has she been doing?_

Now wondering how many more she was hiding underneath her long sleeve shirt and jeans.

He sighed, speaking quietly, “You never told me why you took my gun, and I still want to know about this.” He brushed his thumb over the scar that arced up from the bottom of her left cheek. It was the only scar that was familiar to him; she had had it since he woke up, but he never asked where she got it.

Faye mumbled. She wasn’t coherent enough to accurately grasp what was going on, but she could at least tell she was out of the rain and somewhere much warmer. Her side was still killing her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t able to feel the wet hands on her. She opened her eyes a smidge and was met with his intense stare.

_Why is he so close?_

Spike could see the slivers of dark emerald eyes looking at him. He was slightly taken aback by it, ceasing the movements of his thumb on her cheek. He was uncertain how she’d react to his touch, realizing in the moment that it was the most affectionate way he had ever touched her. She always seemed so angry with him and he would always end up provoking her into another meaningless argument when they tried to have any semblance of a normal conversation, or any interaction for that matter.

He and Faye were like fire and gasoline.

But they had their moments though, smoking or drinking in companionable silence. Sometimes, it almost felt intimate, depending on where they were. He wondered if she ever felt that way too. But sadly, most of those moments had been before his shootout with Vicious. He only realized how important they were after he had come back and began sorting through all the feelings he had ignored when his past was all that occupied his mind. Thoughts that skirted along the edge of something that he had kept himself from, thoughts he knew he shouldn't allow free to sit and fester. 

But despite that, he couldn't help but gaze down at her with a concerned look.

A hazy and dangerous stream of thought ran through her mind.

_Hmm, maybe I did die. Well, at least this feels nice, guess I’ll take what I can get._

She snuggled into the warm arms of the man holding her, inhaling the scent of cigarettes, engine oil, and something else entirely Spike, fully believing that if she was wrapped up in his arms this way, she must be dead, because the Spike she knew wouldn’t hold her like this, wouldn’t look at her with such concerned eyes, and definitely wouldn’t let her bleed all over him like she was. She decided to enjoy it while she could, slowly and shakily, she brought up her left arm to wrap around his warm neck, her fingers groping clumsily over wet skin.

Spike’s breath caught in his throat at the action, feeling her small cold fingers tangle up in the hair at the nape of his neck. He looked down at her and her eyes were closed once again and so he felt more comfortable with leaning down and resting his cheek against the crown of her head. “You’re gonna be fine Faye, I’ve got you.” He muttered softly.

Faye fell back into unconsciousness, his words and actions fading away from her memory. She could only hold on to the feelings of being safe and warm. 

_If this is a dream, I hope to never wake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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